


Perihelion

by thornmarch



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, chaos combo strikes again, i haven't written fic in literal years ugh, spoilers for 2.55 but nothing for heavensward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornmarch/pseuds/thornmarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the things she would miss were simple. The comfort of staying in one place longer than a day or two. Food not hastily cooked over a campfire, burnt on the outside and close to raw in the middle. A bed to sleep in. Time to just relax. Others were more difficult to express as words, or even concepts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Sproutlings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanitaslaughing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/gifts).



> lmao if you've read any of vanitaslaughing's ffxiv fics you're gonna recognise these lame nerds
> 
> aka we spend far too much time sobbing over this godforsaken game and her staring to write got me started and now here we are
> 
> (if you haven't completed the scholar quests up to lv 50 you might not know that eos/selene is referred to as lily, in the english translation at least. she's only mentioned like once though so it's not actually important)

“I’m still not entirely sure what the point of all this is,” Alphinaud sighed. He stood with his arms crossed, watching the warriors of light as they engaged in what he very much considered frivolous tasks.

The youngest warrior laughed, stacking the wood she had been chopping against the side of the building. “You just don’t know how to enjoy yourself, Alph,” Lahen Al’nebar said. The miqo’te’s pink ears twitched; a sign she was deliberately baiting him into an argument with the use of his nickname.

He waved his hand in dismissal. “I know how to have fun when the time is _right_. That time is not now.”

“The time’s never right.” Lahen pouted. The young man had been ignoring her jabs for weeks now and she did very much miss the look of annoyance on his face whenever she managed to ‘press his buttons’, so to speak. It had been a game, but it seemed he no longer wanted to play.

The strange cohort of two miqo’te seekers, a raen and the elezen stood in a corner of Camp Dragonhead. Earlier that morning Tataru had burst into each of their rooms in turn, shouting a string of words somewhat incomprehensible in her excitement. After they’d all gathered together in the hall and calmed her down enough to make sense she managed to squeak four words:

“We’re going to Ishgard!”

Such a simple declaration, and yet each of the members of their group reacted in such vastly different manners. Alphinaud expressed relief before returning to his room for some time, likely planning out their next move and preparing for political situations likely to arise upon their arrival. He had done little else during their long stay in Coerthas, much to Tataru’s continued exasperation.

Lahen didn’t have a strong reaction to the news. She was raised on snowy peaks and the stories of her dragoon uncle, and had visited Ishgard on more than one occasion. Whatever she was thinking she betrayed little - the only thing to cross her face being a mischievous smile.

The oldest of the trio was easily the most excited. Lorven S’ylver looked positively ecstatic at the news, likely because he had long wished to peruse the libraries of Ishgard and learn whatever knowledge they had hoarded away in their closed city. Part of this happiness may also have stemmed from the fact that he had recently learned that Dravania was quite a bit warmer than Coerthas and, unlike his fellow miqo’te Lahen, he was quite keen to return to a warmer climate. Having lived most of his life in Ul’dah, Lorven could not bring himself to adjust to the biting chill of the highlands. No matter how many layers he wrapped himself in he suffered a persistent sniffle and his feet always felt cold and vaguely damp.

Yes, escaping from the snow seemed a fine idea. If his companions asked, however, he would deny it vehemently for fear of being the subject of their ridicule once more. Though he would not trade his fellow warriors for anything, he also very much wished he had refrained from telling them some of his more guarded secrets. Lahen now pronounced the word ‘none’ as ‘nunh’ in his presence and it was always accompanied by copious eyebrow waggling. No, he would very much like to avoid handing her more ammunition. Both she and Nemi teased him enough as it was.

Nemi Sakuya... Her reaction was perhaps the most unexpected. A pout, furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Must we really leave so soon?”

She might as well have told Tataru she was a Garlean spy.

“Well of course we must!” the lalafell scolded. She seemed surprised by the harshness of her own tone and took a moment to clear her throat, continuing in a much softer voice. “We cannot stay here forever. Camp Dragonhead simply does not have the resources we need to search for the other scions... Not that we should leave right this second...” She was fidgeting but, if any of her companions noticed, they did not comment on it. “We may have to move on soon, but there’s still time to say our goodbyes.”

“Yeah!” Lahen said, jumping in her excitement. “Besides, we have to go where the action is! Those dragons aren’t going sit around waiting for us – we have to find them and put ‘em down ourselves!” She punched the air.

Nemi shuffled her feet, her reptilian tail swaying behind her. “Forgive me, I know how important the continuation of our mission is,” she sighed. “I have simply... grown quite attached to this place.”

‘Attached’ was an understatement. Nemi had grown to love everything about the central highlands. She passed the days waiting for passage to Ishgard observing the nature of the area. The goobbues were her favourite subjects and, much to the chagrin of the knights, she had taken to feeding them just outside the camp gates.

The scholar began the practice during her first stay in Coerthas, when she stumbled across a particularly small goobbue sproutling. She coaxed it into following her around, allowing it to feast on the remains of any of the monsters unfortunate enough to pick a fight with her and her companions. Eventually Alphinaud persuaded her that, no, she could not bring that _thing_ back with them to the Waking Sands, and so Nemi left it behind. However, every time she returned to the snowy region, a quick whistle was all it took to have the monstrosity galloping to her side.

The goobbue – affectionately named ‘Parsnip’ – had been among the first to greet the group on their latest trip to Coerthas, and was certainly a warm welcome after all they had endured (though, truth be told, Tataru had been quite terrified of it at first. Parsnip was easily twice the size of the average highland goobbue and none could blame her for thinking it intended to scoop her into its gaping mouth). It cared not that they had become fugitives overnight, only that Nemi had returned and that she had brought many tasty treats.

Of course the discovery that Parsnip had become a parent during her absence was exciting for the raen. Though she was reluctant to leave her goobbue family, there were still other things she would miss more.

Some of these things were simple. The comfort of staying in one place longer than a day or two. Food not hastily cooked over a campfire, burnt on the outside and close to raw in the middle. A bed to sleep in. Time to just _relax_. Others were more difficult to express as words, or even concepts. She had spent many evenings alone in her room, puzzling out her thoughts with Lily as a sounding board, but a mute faerie could only offer so much assistance.

Though Nemi did not fully understand the twisted knot of feelings in her stomach, she knew that the very idea of leaving felt wrong. It did not matter than she couldn’t put a name to it. Lacking the ability to voice such a thing and aware that her friends seemed to expect her to elaborate on what she had said (having honestly forgotten by now what that was exactly), she settled for allowing her mouth to do its own thinking.

“I simply thought our send-off would be a little more... grand.”

Tataru’s eyes lit up. “Something of the sort may already be in the works.”

“Wh-” Nemi began, confused, but was cut off almost immediately.

“I’ll come find you once it’s all sorted out. Don’t worry about a thing!” the lalafell giggled before scuttling away down the hall.

Lorven sighed and leant against the wall. “I sincerely hope that whatever she’s planning has nothing to do with the manner in which this news was delivered.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Lahen asked.

“Well...” Lorven furrowed his eyebrows. “Unless Tataru was waiting to ambush any messengers then there’s another person who likely received the news first – and honestly I’m surprised it wasn’t _them_ bursting into our rooms so early in the morning.”

“You cannot mean-” Nemi said, eyes wide.

Lorven nodded, stony faced. “Aye. It’s likely _he’s_ planning something.”

Any further discussion was drowned out by Lahen’s cheering.

And that was how they’d ended up in that corner of Camp Dragonhead, preparing for what Lord Haurchefant was fondly calling “the party of the era”.

* * *

 

“I suppose I don’t see the problem in taking one night for ourselves,” Lorven called from somewhere up on the roof. He’d been tasked with hanging decorations, but since none of their group understood whether or not there was any significance to the trinkets they’d been provided with, it seemed that Lorven was hanging a large number of strange metallic things that would look more at home entertaining an infant than adorning the guttering of a building.

“It is not just _one_ night,” Alphinaud sniffed. “We have already wasted quite enough time here and I would rather not waste any more.”

“I know we’ve been here a while but surely even now you see the merit in celebration?” Nemi asked from atop a crate. Though it appeared that she had somehow not been given a task, the girl was actually on goobbue lookout duty. Parsnip’s children had proven to be an unruly bunch and, though not at all dangerous at their current size, their familiarity with people had made them bold enough to venture into camp and consume whatever small items they could get their hands on. It was now established policy for all soldiers to place their shoes off the ground and out of reach of the creatures for the night after an entire unit woke to find that they would have to do their morning training barefoot.

Nemi was, to her credit, training the goobbue sproutlings. As well trained as Parsnip was, she aimed to have Camp Dragonhead fully equipped with an army of goobbues within the year. That all depended on whether she could find time to come back every now and again after leaving for Ishgard. At the very least she hoped to train them not to eat everything in sight before she left, though as the hours ticked by that dream slipped further and further from her grasp.

She’d drifted off again and now Alphinaud was looking at her as though he expected her to say something. What had he said? Losing track of her thoughts had become a bad habit of late.

Luckily, Lahen noticed and stepped in. “After everything that’s happened, I think we need this.”

Alphinaud looked like he might try to argue until a sproutling stumbled into his leg. The tiny goobbue looked up at him and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Then the goobbue lowered its head to the ground. He looked on in horror as it nibbled at the heel of his shoe.

“Onion, no!” Nemi shouted, jumping down from her crate. She tugged the goobbue away from its prey and gave it a sharp flick between the eyes. The seedkin blinked at the contact and then emitted a low moan before wiggling out of her grasp and clamping its arms around her leg. She offered Alphinaud an apologetic smile.

He merely scowled before turning on his heel and stomping away.

Lahen sighed. “He needs this party more than we do.” She let her axe slide from her grasp and moved next to Nemi, raising an eyebrow at the goobbue. “How many of these things are there, anyway?”

The raen shrugged. “They move too fast me to count and I’ve only named a few. If I had to guess then maybe... thirty?”

Lorven poked his head over the guttering. “How many sproutlings do they usually have at a time?”

Another shrug. “Nobody seems to know. Maybe I should quit primal-killing and take up goobbue research.”

Lahen laughed. “In any case, you should probably take that thing out of here before the kitchen staff decide to turn it into tonight’s main course.”

With a sigh, Nemi scooped the seedkin into her arms. “Come on Onion. You’ve caused quite enough mischief for one day.” It looked up at her with beady eyes as she made her way to the camp gates. She barely made it past the kitchens before someone grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, yelping as her feet left the ground.

“It’s not every day I manage to catch a warrior of light by surprise,” her assailant said, followed by a hearty laugh.

Of course he would be the one to do this to her. “Ah, an ambush! How silly of me to leave myself open like that!”

Though she couldn’t see him, she knew Lord Haurchefant was smiling. “And fortunate you are that it was me who took advantage of your carelessness and not an Ixali raider.”

“Of course, how could I forget to watch for raiders while within the walls of your heavily fortified camp?” she teased. “Now that I’ve learned my lesson, would you mind putting me down?”

A noise of protest. “Do you not enjoy the warmth of my embrace?”

Full glad was she that he could not see the heat spreading across her face. It took her a moment to recover and remember why she had been trying to leave the camp in the first place. “I’m afraid I must consider my passenger’s feelings before my own.”

“Passenger?” He let her go then, allowing her to turn and show him the goobbue. “Oh, I had not noticed you had one of your young charges with you.”

Nemi gave Onion a quick pat on the head and hugged it closer to her chest. The seedkin seemed to be eyeing one of Haurchefant’s gloves with more than casual interest, so she took some almonds from her pocket with her free hand and shoved them into its mouth. It hummed softly as it chewed.

“I’m taking it back to Parsnip before it gets into any trouble,” she said.

He bent to stand at eye level with the goobbue. It emitted a shrill sound and bumped his nose with its fist. “Quite a spirited thing, isn’t it?”

She offered an apologetic smile. It seemed like she was doing that a lot lately. “I think Onion thinks you’re trying to steal its food.”

He shook his head. “No offence taken, my friend. I too would be wary of anyone wandering so close if I were in your arms.”

Nemi spluttered. “I really have to get Onion back to its family.” Even after so many moons spend at Camp Dragonhead, she didn’t think she would ever get used to the elezen’s charming comments. She cleared her throat, and hopefully her thoughts. “I’m sure they’re as worried about it as goobbues can be.”

“You will allow me to accompany you, then?” he asked. “I simply cannot allow you to wander outside the gates by your lonesome.”

“It’s quite alright.” She grimaced. Though she would very much enjoy his company, she had been looking forward to a few moments alone to puzzle out her thoughts. There hadn’t been a chance since Tataru flew into her room that morning. “Besides, I’m sure you have pressing party business to attend to.”

“Nonsense! The point of the party is to give you and your companions a good send off, and what kind of host would I be if I did not ensure the entirety of your last day here is as enjoyable as possible?”

She couldn’t say no to that smile.

 


	2. Of Withholding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold and regret: the true Coerthas experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to have this up earlier (and more written before now) but I started a new job this week so my writing time has been severely cut down on. Eh. Now I don't have to worry about affording my subscription, I guess ^^;

They trekked through the snow for half an hour until Nemi felt comfortable whistling for Parsnip. Summoning it too close to the camp tended to make the soldiers uneasy. To be fair, it had grown far bigger than any goobbue they had seen before and it was quite unlikely that any of them had the same fondness for strange monsters that she did.

Ten minutes passed and it had not arrived. They stopped to rest against a snowdrift beside a steep slope, so as to be out of the wind.

Haurchefant frowned. “How long does the parent usually take to find you?”

She shrugged. “It’s never taken this long before.”

“You don’t think it’s possible that-”

He was interrupted by a low groan, seemingly coming from within a nearby snowdrift.

“Parsnip?” Nemi called, lowering Onion to the ground so she could dig through the snow. A few inches in she found something solid and pressed her hand against it.

Whatever was within the mound growled and stumbled to its feet, causing the people by its side to jump backwards to avoid being covered in snow. Parsnip rose from within its white cocoon, blinking at them warily for a moment until its eyes brightened with recognition. It lumbered over to Nemi and lowered its head just enough for her to give it a gentle pat.

“Why were you sleeping under all that snow, you silly thing?” she asked.

Parsnip simply grunted, barely acknowledging her question or the tiny seedkin now attached to its leg.

Haurchefant beamed at the beast. “Is this truly the same goobbue that was with you during your first stay here?”

“The very same.”

“It certainly has grown,” he said, eyes wide. “I don’t think there is anything in all the central highlands to rival its size.”

Nemi laughed. “Most goobbues don’t have someone sneaking leftovers from the kitchens to them almost every night.” She raised her hand to her chin. “I don’t think it’s ever slept under snow like that before though.”

Haurchefant shrugged. “Surely sleeping in such a manner is not uncommon in wild goobbues.”

 “I have observed others engage in similar behaviour but I have yet to discover the reason for it...” She tapped her knuckles against her chin. “Only the fully grown subjects seem to...”

Whatever else she said was drowned out by the galloping of many tiny feet. Parsnip groaned. By the twelve, her earlier estimate of thirty had been wrong. Fifty goobbue sproutlings clamoured around Parsnip’s feet. For the second time that day she felt herself lifted from the ground.

And then the world was tumbling around her. Or, rather, she was tumbling down a slope. When Nemi stopped moving, everything was white.

It was quite calming really. In this white there were no decisions to be made, no fighting to be done, no friends to leave behind. How nice it would be if she could stay there. It was cold, true, but a world made entirely of snow could not be so bad.

She was drawn out of her daydream by muffled sounds of digging and someone calling her name. Though it would be nice to spend eternity within her own head, there would be people that worried about her if they thought they had lost her to her own imagination.

And so she tried to move her limbs a little and wiggle towards what she hoped was sunlight. A moment later she glimpsed the blue of the sky, which was quickly obscured by a concerned face. The concern, however, quickly vanished into something more akin to an impish grin.

“I had been worried when I couldn’t find you immediately,” Haurchefant laughed, “but I see my concern was unwarranted: you were simply short enough to be hidden from view completely.”

Nemi blinked up at him. She had been happy to see him until he’d mentioned her height. She was by far the shortest of the warriors of light – standing at roughly the same height as Alphinaud – and it was a bit of a sore spot for her. “I was quite comfortable before you came along, thank you very much.”

“Then I suppose you do not need my assistance in escaping from your snowy prison?”

She wiggled her hands until they popped out from beneath the snow. “I seem to be doing okay on my own.”

He sighed and glanced up the slope to the goobbues. They were milling about, quite oblivious to the trouble they had caused. A few of the sproutlings were beginning to wander after them, though. “Are you sure? Or are you perhaps waiting for your pets to come to your aid?”

She turned her head just enough to see the goobbues approach. Marigold and Pepper: not the best trained members of her seedkin hoarde. And they were definitely making a beeline for her.

Technically, she could ask for help. It would be quite easy. But the jab at her height was still fresh in her mind and she could not bring herself to let him have this. No, she would dig herself out and show him and everyone that had ever made a joke about her small stature.

She yelped as something wet and warm closed around her right horn. Though she knew that it was surely one of the sproutlings, she could not see which. Not that it mattered overly much. She waved at them with her hands, only prompting the other sproutling to take her fingers in its mouth.

Haurchefant shook with laughter. “They are quite fond of you!”

Nemi wiggled until her elbows were free and attempted to bat the goobbues off her. “Oh yes, I’m sure this is absolutely hilarious from way up there.”

He frowned. “My offer for assistance still stands, if you will accept it.”

“Fine,” she sighed.

He took her hands in his own and pulled her upwards, snow and goobbues falling away until she was free. Though half of her wanted to hang onto him a moment longer, the other half- the petty half- forced her to let go and turn away.

“Are you quite alright, my friend? You seem rather upset.” It was just like him to show concern for her, even when she was being a bit of a brat.

She shrugged, not turning to face him. “Do I?”

“If I have done something to offend you, please tell me so that I may right this wrong.”

Gods, it was hard to stay mad at him. She clenched her fists. He had not intended to insult her, this she knew. And yet she could not forgive the slight.

Her height had always bothered her. Perhaps the many years she spent disguised as a lalafell to avoid persecution for her reptilian form contributed to this. She had developed a distinct dislike of being thought of as less for her height. Abandoning her guise had helped her overcome it, to a degree. But there were situations where she still very much feared acknowledgement of her stature, or lack thereof.

Even on the very tips of her toes her head would not draw level with his shoulders. She thought about that more than she’d like to admit.

Turning her attention back to the situation at hand, she realised she’d zoned out long enough that he’d come to stand beside her and was peering at her face. His eyebrows were knotted in concern.

Nemi cursed silently. How could she be so selfish? He had only ever been good to her and her fellow warriors and here she was, letting some petty insecurity ruin a day that he was going to great lengths to ensure was enjoyable. Regardless of whether or not the effort was for her _specifically_ , she should at least do her best so as not to disappoint him.

She shook her head and gave him her best smile. “It’s nothing!”

Haurchefant’s face relaxed. “Are you sure?”

“Please don’t worry about me,” she said, taking his hand and giving it a slight squeeze. “There are enough people who do that already.”

“I must apologise then, for I will worry about you regardless,” he smiled. “Although I must say, it is rare to see you being so forward.”

She dropped his hand and turned away again, though this time with a grin. “You are ridiculous.”

* * *

Lahen sat with her back to her pile of wood. The evening air felt was pleasant on her skin after an afternoon spent splitting logs. Lorven sat beside her, less content with the slowly dropping temperature.

“Would it be too much to ask for one warm night?” he sighed.

She raised her eyebrows. “We’re surrounded by snow.”

“Perhaps,” he sniffed, “but this place was green once upon a time, or so I hear.”

“It was hardly Thanalan levels of warmth.”

“But it was warmer?”

She snorted. “Were you always this desperate or is it just something you picked up after being kicked out of your tribe?”

He crossed his arms. “I wasn’t kicked out. I left.”

“You ran away.”

“I _walked_ away.”

“Is it maybe because-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Because-”

“I swear to the Twelve, Lahen.”

A cough. The two miqo’te looked up to find Alphinaud staring at them. Well, staring at their feet was more accurate. With a frown.

The elezen took a deep breath. “I realise that I was quite difficult this morning, and I would like to offer my sincerest apologies.”

Lahen waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Alph! It’s not your fault Lorven was getting nunh.”

Lorven groaned, falling sideways to the ground. As soon as his black ear made contact with the snow he shot back upwards. Cold and regret: the true Coerthas experience.

“Jokes aside, I acted with impropriety and am glad that your moods seem unaffected. Would you be so kind as to point me in Nemi’s direction so that I may pay her the same courtesy?” Alphinaud had allowed a smile to creep onto his face, the first one they’d seen for days.

Lahen shook her head. “Last I saw of her she intended to take one of her sproutlings out of the camp.” She shrugged. “That was more than an hour ago so she’s probably been carried off into the mountains by bandits or something.”

“If only it were you instead of her,” Lorven sighed.

Lahen delivered a swift kick to his leg, smiling. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“There you are!” A small voice called. Tataru jogged into sight, skittering to a halt next to Alphinaud. From her ragged breathing, she must have been doing quite a bit of running.

“How are the preparations going?” Lahen asked. “I’ve got enough wood here for one hell of a bonfire.”

Tataru shook her head. “The preparations are finished but I can’t seem to find Lord Haurchefant. Have you seen him?”

Lahen snorted so hard she nearly knocked herself over. “That explains where Nemi is. I suppose there’ll be more wood to burn than I thought.”

Lorven stared. Tataru looked like she might faint. Alphinaud furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m not sure I understand the reference,” he said, followed by a collective sigh of relief from the others.

Sometimes they forgot he was so young. There was a moment of silence where the two miqo’te simply looked at each other and Lorven became aware of a rising feeling of fear in his stomach. Lahen’s lips curled into that stupid grin she got every time she was going to say something that nobody really wanted to hear. But he could save them. He could spare them all another terrible joke.

He could change the subject.

“In any case,” Lorven coughed, “I’m sure they’ll reappear before long.”

“Were you looking for me?” A tiny voice, attached to an equally tiny au ra. There stood Nemi, looking like she had indeed taken one sort of tumble or another.

Haurchefant stood behind her, looking much the same. “Forgive us; we were forced to take something of an unexpected detour.”

“Oh Twelve above,” Lorven groaned.

She grimaced. “Somehow we ended up at the bottom of a hill.”

Tataru covered her ears. “I don’t think any more will be necessary.”

“Don’t be silly!” Lahen cackled. “We need _all_ of the details.”

Alphinaud’s eyes widened. “You can’t possibly mean that-”

“Huh?” Nemi took one look at his face and turned the brightest shade of red they had ever seen. She flailed her hands about. “I-I think there’s been s-some sort of misunders-standing!”

Haurchefant placed a hand on her shoulder. “Not at all! Our outing was a rather wild one, truth be told,” he laughed.

She clenched her fists and looked to the ground. “You are all the absolute worst people I have ever met.”


	3. Of Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words between friends and several bad ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in addition to working I'm now quite sick and terrified because I hate being sick but here we go I'm still alive I promise.

“I really don’t understand why you want my opinion,” Lahen said. She and Nemi stood in her quarters, both with arms crossed.

“Please? It could make up for embarrassing me today,” Nemi said. “I just... please... do this for me.”

Lahen sighed. She couldn’t say no to that face. “Fine, but I don’t know why you expect anything I could say to be helpful.” She gestured at a small stool in the corner. “Honestly, you’d probably be better of asking Lorven.”

Nemi sat on the stool, turning her back to Lahen. “Maybe, but there are things I want to talk about and he’s not good with personal matters. Remember when he told us about why he left his tribe?”

“Of course I do, we joke about it all the time.”

“And you remember how he got so embarrassed that he walked out of the room backwards and we didn’t see him for a week?”

Lahen sighed. “I miss the days when we had time for nonsense like that.”

Nemi turned a little to smile at her. “I do too, but the point remains that he is so mortified by matters of love and intimacy that having such a discussion with him would be nigh impossible.”

“Oh. _Oh!_ So that’s what you wanted.”

A shrug. “Mostly I want you to help me with my hair. If I talk a little while you do so, there’s hardly any harm.”

“No, not at all,” Lahen laughed. She took a hairbrush from the dresser beside her bed and started to work it slowly through Nemi’s hair. The lavender locks were knotted from the wind, and she did her best not to cause her friend any unnecessary harm.

“I’ve been trying to brush it at least twice a day since we’ve been here, so I hope it’s not too difficult,” Nemi said, fidgeting. “If it’s too hard please say so.”

Lahen tapped her lightly over the head with the brush. “It’s only going to be hard if you keep squirming.”

“I’m sorry!”

“If something has you wriggling around this much it must be a terrible bother, so spit it out before I force it out of you.”

Nemi laughed. When she first met Lahen, she’d taken her gruff manner of speaking at face value. For a while she was even a little afraid of the miqo’te. But that was a long time ago, and now she knew that the woman brushing her hair was perhaps her most steadfast friend in all the realm. Lahen’s callused fingers and near-constant chiding belied a gentle heart, and a willingness to do almost anything for those she cared about.

The raen took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling, her shoulders relaxing as she did so. “I’m not really sure where to start.”

“From the beginning?”

“Oh, a jester now, are you?”

“I do try.”

“If only the primals enjoyed your humour as much as I.”

“Hey, Leviathan thought I was hilarious. Until I shot him in the eye with an arrow, anyway.”

“I don’t remember any laughter; just roars of rage.”

“Could _you_ have passed up the opportunity to tell him he was ‘all washed up’?”

“I see your point.”

“Now,” Lahen said, tapping her with the brush again, “stop changing the subject and tell me what’s bothering you.”

Nemi hunched her shoulders. “I... I really thought we’d be here longer.” She twisted the loose folds of her robe around her fingers. “I promised myself I’d do something before we left but... well... now I’m out of time.”

“And what was it you wanted to do?”

“I...” She stared down at her hands. The words wouldn’t leave her mouth. “I can’t.”

“Alright I think I’ve teased you enough,” Lahen sighed. She set the brush back on the dresser and moved to crouch in front of Nemi, taking her face in her hands. “You’re an open book, you know?”

“Huh?”

Lahen shook her head. “You’re afraid of confirming something that I’m pretty sure everyone and their grandmother could figure out after spending five minutes in a room with you.”

Nemi shook her head. “Impossible.”

Lahen backed away to lean against the wall. “Nah, Lorven and I actually have a betting pool going on this. Tataru’s in with ‘they’ll be married within the year’ but I think she’s a bit optimistic. I’ve got you down for _maybe_ saying something five years from now.”

Nemi looked at her, eyes wide. “Just _what_ are you betting on, exactly?”

“Are you seriously still playing oblivious?” Lahen laughed. “Or are you actually that thick?”

Nemi scratched at her wrist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The miqo’te’s face softened. “Now, now, there’s no need to be nervous. I know you thought you were being subtle but, honestly, it’s obvious to me that you’ve loved him since not long after you first met him.”

Nemi let herself sink as far into her own shoulders as she could. “Nope, this isn’t happening.” She was thankful that the scales on her cheeks would hide the worst of her blush.

Lahen knelt in front of her and took her hands. “Come on, you’ll feel better if you admit it to someone. Why not me? What kind of friend would I be if you couldn’t confide in me?”

Nemi said nothing. She closed her eyes, grit her teeth.

Lahen sighed. “Look, I’ll even start you off. You don’t have to say the whole sentence. Ready now? I like...”

Something too soft to hear escaped Nemi’s lips.

“What was that? I can’t hear you.”

She opened her eyes and furrowed her brow, wiggling away from Lahen’s gaze. Again, she mumbled something too quiet to catch.

Lahen grinned and squeezed her hands. “A little louder now.”

Nemi kicked the stool back and stood up, wrenching her hands free of Lahen’s grip. “I like Haurchefant, okay? I like him! Now can we go back to pretending that I never said anything and everything is fine and that we’re not leaving tomorrow?”

“No, we’re going to talk about this because you’ve been pining hopelessly the whole time we’ve been here and frankly it’s embarrassing to watch.”

Nemi flopped back onto the bed, hiding her face in her hands. “Am I really that easy to read?”

Lahen sat beside her. “I’d like to be reassuring and say no but there are like twenty people in our betting pool, so at this point I’d be doing you a disservice by lying.”

She let out a long groan. Would it not be better for her to just melt into the bed? Maybe she could just not leave the room. Ever. Or she could flee into the mountains and become a hermit. That seemed like a reasonable life plan. “I’m an idiot.”

“Sort of,” Lahen laughed. “But you’re one of the smartest idiots I know. So really you’re only a half idiot.”

“But if I’ve been so obvious then I’m sure by now he knows,” she whined. “How can I ever face him again?”

“Firstly,” Lahen said, “you’re going to pull yourself together and stop being a blubbering mess. You’ve fought primals, for Halone’s sake! This is a walk in the park compared to that. Secondly, you’re going to stop rolling around and ruining your hair because I worked very hard to get the knots out and by the Twelve it’s going to stay that way.” She paused long enough for Nemi to pick herself up. “Thirdly, tonight is the perfect opportunity to actually say something. If I learned anything from flicking through Lorven’s romance novel collection, it’s that dramatic confessions always work.”

Nemi cocked her head. “Lorven has a romance novel collection?”

Lahen waved her hand. “Yeah he’s changed the covers to boring ones about Ul’dah’s sand or something, but that’s not the point.”

“I did think it strange that he was so against lending me a book on the theory of aetheric teleportation...”

“Yup, that sounds about as boring as the rest of them.”

“Not at all! We teleport all the time, don’t you want to know why and how it works?”

“No, I prefer not to think about it.”

“Well I think it’s fascinating! I’ll have to ask Tataru to track down a copy for me, since the contents of Lorven’s are apparently not as scientific as I originally thought.”

Lahen sighed. “You’re changing the subject again.”

“Am I? I thought this was a natural progression,” Nemi shrugged.

Lahen gave her a gentle shove. “All right scale-butt, less talk and more getting out to ‘the feast of the era’.”

“If I say I’ll go will you do me the favour of never calling me scale-butt again?”

“Maybe. I’m not making any promises.”

 

* * *

 

Lorven was the most content he had been in some time. For one, he’d managed to find a nook in the form of a windowsill to shelter him from the frigid evening breeze. It also helped that he was close enough to a table piled with food that the only part of him that had to leave this nook was his arm. All that was missing then was a nice drink, and Lahen soon took care of that.

As soon as those pink ears of hers appeared in the crowd, they were searching for alcohol. Or, perhaps more accurately, the miqo’te attached to them was. By the time she made it to his nook she had at least three bottles under arm, and four mugs. The number of mugs confused him at first, until he saw that she must have bumped into Alphinaud in the crowd because she was dragging  him along by the sleeve of his cloak.

“If that fourth mug is for our young companion I can’t say I approve,” Lorven sighed as soon as they were within hearing distance.

She made a face at him. “I don’t approve of your face.”

“Very clever.”

“Shut it.”

Alphinaud took the moment of distraction to snatch his sleeve back. “I don’t suppose either of you will allow me the freedom of making my own decisions?”

“Well I can’t force anything you don’t want to drink down your throat, but I do think you deserve a drink just as much as the rest of us,” Lahen said. Something about her grin said it was a little more than that.

Lorven shook his head. “I’m not sure the lad can handle it. Especially not if _you’re_ choosing the beverage.”

Alphinaud carefully extracted a mug from Lahen’s fingers and nodded. “If I can match wits with men more than twice my age, what is there to stop me from doing the same in this?”

The olderst warrior of light cringed. “I did not mean it as a jab at your age. You are smaller than either of us, and alcohol tends to take more of a toll on those of petite frame.”

“Lahen is not much larger than I, and she could put Lominsan seamen to shame.”

The youngest warrior snorted. “I could do a lot of things to seamen.”

Lorven ignored her. “Is Nemi not with you? I assumed you would be together, since you apparently were engaging in some ritual of preparation.”

“Wow I… Just what do you think we were doing anyway?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We’ve only ever been invited to one party together and we didn’t even make it to the preparation stage.”

“I brushed her hair you dork.”

“Something so mundane?”

“What do you want me to say? We did our hair, gossiped, daydreamed about the day our fathers would announce who we are to wed and we summoned a primal. All the usual activities of lovely young noblewomen like ourselves.” She dropped into an awkward curtsy, probably the first she’d performed in her life.

Alphinaud cleared his throat. “If you two are done with your hourly verbal sparring, I suggest we pour the drinks. Nemi will join us shortly, if she so wishes.”

Lahen dropped two bottles, swinging the third out from under her arm and yanking the cork free in one fluid motion. “That, my dear Alph, is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely unedited because as previously mentioned I feel like death. Oh god please let me get better soon.


End file.
